


the warmth of us

by herwhiteknight



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Holiday Fic Exchange, Light Angst, Secret Bee 2020, and they were roommates!, sweet sweet hints of reincarnation/other lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28576764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herwhiteknight/pseuds/herwhiteknight
Summary: Ever since tragedy struck Blake's life several years ago, the holidays had long since become cold, lonely and empty. But that all started to change when Yang Xiao Long found her way into her life, her home. And her heart.With Yang's help, and a little Christmas magic, Blake feels her soul start to sing again.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Ilia Amitola/Pyrrha Nikos
Comments: 10
Kudos: 107





	the warmth of us

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY SECRET BEE 2020 SALS!!!!! oh boooii oh no i am VERY sorry for the lateness of this fic D: but am endlessly thankful for your patience and encouragement as my inspiration hit wall after wall as i tried my best to wrangle this fic into.. Something Coherent. and, finally, just over 7k later... it has been wrangled XD
> 
> i hope the wait is worth it :D and i hope you enjoy!

Halfway through putting up Christmas decorations around their living room, Yang realized something she felt like she should have noticed ages before. She could’ve kicked herself for not clueing in earlier - even though she’d had her excuses; finals had thoroughly kicked her ass and she needed to set up the spare bedroom for Ruby and there had still been present shopping to be done after all that and -

Well. Yang still felt guilty. At some point during all the chaos, Blake had just… stopped singing. Whether it was a couple days, or a week or several weeks - the moment Yang realized, their small apartment suddenly got so much smaller. And quieter.

Yang tacked the last of the tinsel to their front entryway, stepping back absently to stare at the way it framed around the walls and the ceiling. But she wasn’t really looking at it anymore, too busy finding herself remembering the first few weeks of moving in, just a few months ago - prior to the start of her second semester.

It had been quiet then, too. But only at first.

“You’ve got a really pretty voice,” Yang had commented one day, as they were both washing the dishes together. The apartment wasn’t anything special, with the only amenities being a stove and a fridge. But even still, it was a decent price for something so close to the university. Yang tried not to blush as she remembered the way she had jumped at the chance to move in with Blake - it had been a great opportunity. It was a much shorter commute than from her parents’ and Blake’s previous roommate had just graduated.

Totally didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she had been _seriously_ crushing on the other woman ever since laying eyes on her in her first semester during some required English or Grammar-something class. Nothing at all.

Blake blinked in surprise at Yang's comment as she stacked a dry and clean plate in the cupboard. She fished out a handful of clean cutlery from the rinse water, quiet for a moment. Then, “I hadn’t noticed I’d been singing,” she murmured, drying the utensils meticulously one by one before storing them in their proper place in the drawer to her right.

Yang paused in the act of trying to scrub out a particularly stubborn bit of dried-on food, her head cocking in confusion and lips parting to ask her… _something_ , when -

“I suppose I’ve gotten comfortable around you,” she admitted softly, sinking her hands back into the warm rinse water despite there being nothing in the sink to dry. Yang watched her splay her fingers against the bottom of the sink, barely catching the way that Blake glanced quickly over at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Yeah?”

Blake turned to her, hands still planted in the sink, up to her mid-forearms in the water. She looked beautiful like that, a simple white t-shirt - Yang had accidentally noticed her getting dressed that morning so she knew there was a dark grey binder underneath it - with her short shaggy hair just barely reaching the edges of her v-neck collar. Since Blake hadn’t put it up in her usual topknot today, her undercut wasn’t really all that visible.

Belatedly, Yang realized that Blake was smiling at her. Had she noticed Yang staring? Was she going to call her out for it? Instead of the expected reprimand, Blake’s smile softened. “Yeah,” she hummed. “You’re… warm.”

Blake had often said stuff like that - like complimenting Yang’s sunny disposition was more than just her favourite pastime. It was more like… as if her comments about Yang’s sunshine, Yang’s golden heart were reminders to herself more than anything. As if warmth was something Blake had forgotten a long time ago.

“Yang? What are you doing?” 

Yang startled out of her memories, coming into awareness of the fact that she’d just been standing there, staring into the empty space of the hallway for the past several minutes. Empty space that was now filled by Blake stepping out of her room.

“Oh! Blake, hey,” Yang said sheepishly, palming the back of her neck awkwardly. “Just admiring the… tinsel.”

Blake barely glanced upwards, her brow too furrowed as she looked at Yang with piercing eyes. The gold of her irises dug under Yang’s skin and made her feel _known_. But somehow incomplete at the same time.

It was an odd thing, that look. And it hadn’t been the first time that Blake stripped her down to her essence like that - though Yang couldn’t be certain that she was doing it on purpose. Because as quickly as the sensation came, it vanished in an instant as Blake’s eyes fell away.

“Is everything alright?” she asked to the ground instead, hugging herself together as the smallest of shivers rippled through her.

Yang opened her mouth, the words forming just behind her teeth about her memories of when their apartment felt lighter - but something about Blake looked so fragile already. So, no. She wouldn’t burden her with guilt. It wasn’t Blake’s fault that the house was so quiet.

“Just need the box of the rest of the Christmas decorations!” Yang chirruped, pointing past Blake’s shoulder. Blake hummed in vague agreement - and something about even that simple note set Yang’s soul alight with music.

It was an odd thing, that feeling. But Yang attributed it to the certainty that she was slowly falling in love with this person - how would she know to assume anything different?

Her soul burning still, “Would you like to help me? With the decorations, I mean.”

Blake blinked. “Oh,” she said, her tone indecipherably _strange_. “Christmas. So then it is…”

It took Yang an embarrassingly long moment before she realized - “The holidays are hard for you, aren’t they?” she asked quietly, setting the box down on the floor and taking the moment to _be there_ with her. 

Blake laughed, but it was a choked and pained thing - barbed wire wrapped around her throat. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Our prof is always commenting on your astute observations, after all.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No,” Blake said quickly, ducking her head and wiping at the corner of her eye before flashing a smile up at Yang as she picked up the box of decorations. She brushed past Yang, her arms full, before turning around. She opened her mouth slightly for a long moment. “I… it would be nice to talk. Sometime, I mean. About… everything.”

Yang joined her in the living room as they sat down on the couch together, decorations at their feet. Yang settled a hand over her knee, squeezing reassuringly. “I’ll be here to listen. Whenever you like.”

Blake hummed again and the faintest glow pulsed from under Yang’s palm, as if trying to tune to the same frequency. But Yang was looking at Blake, and Blake was smiling back at her - and neither of them saw anything aside from the other.

“Thank you,” Blake murmured, covering her hand and squeezing back.

* * *

Three days before Christmas Eve, a severe cold snap hit.

Yang nudged back the curtains of their living room window and was greeted, once again, by a dull foggy grey sky as snow fell in an uninterrupted blanket. “If this doesn’t let up,” Yang said, turning from the window and striding back over to the kitchen where Blake was sitting with some freshly brewed tea. “I’m not sure if Ruby is even gonna make it over, honestly.”

Blake absently proffered her mug over in Yang’s direction as she eyed it questioningly. “I made a pot,” she said as Yang took a test sip. As Yang pulled her own cup down from the cupboard, “Ilia still will, if that’s alright. She can use the bedroom you set up for Ruby. That way you won’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“That’s more than alright!” Yang grinned, dropping into the chair opposite Blake. “It’ll be nice to meet the elusive best friend of Blake Belladonna!”

“I still find it strange that you two haven’t run into each other on campus yet,” Blake said, watching Yang stir honey into her tea. That _feeling_ came back, less intensely - something covering her with a light touch rather than something searing through her veins.

Yang just took a sip of her tea.

“She’s almost as much as a musclehead as you,” Blake continued, seemingly unaware of what Yang felt settling across her skin.

“Now, that’s just stereotyping!” Yang grumbled, rolling her eyes. “As if all I do is spend my time in the gym or something.”

“Well… it _is_ paying off for you,” Blake said, the corner of her lip tipping upward in a shy sort of smirk. The wave of melancholy that had washed over her in the weeks that Yang had been elusive and busy with her studies seemed to have finally broken on the shore, dissipating in the presence of company. 

The unexpected flirt had Yang instantly floundering, her hands dancing through the air awkwardly like she didn’t know how to work them anymore, or what their purpose was. Blake just nosed into her mug, hiding a deeper smirk. 

She really did seem lighter the past couple of days. Almost as if _Yang_ herself had a direct affect on Blake’s mood.

But that happened, right? When people were around someone they liked…

Yang tugged at her collar, face red. “Is it just me or is it… just suddenly _really_ hot in here, hah…”

Blake frowned suddenly, setting her tea down as her brow furrowed. “Actually, now that you mention it,” she muttered, getting up and walking over the pipes exposed by the baseboard. The landlord had apparently promised Blake when she’d first moved in that the gap would be dealt with. He also reassured Yang when _she_ moved in that they’d send a repairman in soon. Unsurprisingly, nothing came of any of it.

Blake knelt down, and Yang knew she was listening for the faint sound of hot water flowing through the pipes. Not that Yang could ever hear it, but Blake _swore_ it sounds like a constant quiet trickle of water.

“So,” she reported as she looked up at Yang from where she was behind the table. “I think the pipes are frozen.”

“So… no heat.”

“No heat,” Blake clarified with a wince as she went to retrieve her sweater from her room.

“We should probably notify the landlord, huh?” Yang suggested sarcastically as she cupped her mug closer to herself, as if suddenly identifying the problem made her more acutely aware of it. 

“It’s the holidays,” Blake said, coming back into the kitchen. She draped one of Yang’s favourite sweaters across her shoulders as she came around and sat back down. “I highly doubt they’re going to respond for any maintenance request this time of year.”

True to Blake’s word, a couple hours after Yang shot off a short email about the problem to the landlord, the reply was that they would simply have to wait it out - that the cold snap was going to blow over in a couple days and that they should minimize going out to keep the heat within their apartment. 

“Yeah, so… Ruby won't be coming,” Yang said, hanging up the phone and falling onto the couch. “She said that dad couldn’t even get the doors open because the handles had frozen shut? Or the hinges or the locks or… I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, Yang,” Blake murmured, shifting on the couch and lifting Yang’s legs so that they draped over her lap. “I know you were looking forward to spending the holidays with your sister.”

“It’s just… university has kept me so busy, y’know? I… it’s whatever, I guess,” Yang shrugged, shaking her head. 

“I know what it’s like,” Blake said quietly, after a long pause. “To miss family on the holidays.”

There was something so _heavy_ in that statement. It was weighted in such a way that Yang knew not to press the subject further unless Blake continued that thread of conversation herself. So she waited for a little to give Blake the space she needed.

But when nothing was further forthcoming, Yang just nudged Blake’s side with a stretch of her arm. “Hey. At least we have each other, right?”

Blake caught her hand before she could withdraw, tangling their fingers together. She stared at their fingertips as they traced across dips and crevices. Yang wondered if she too could see the same sparks that she felt jolting faintly across her skin. 

“We do,” she agreed softly, squeezing her hand once again.

* * *

Just after Yang bundled up in her pajamas - which for her meant swapping out her tank top for a short sleeve shirt and her shorts for a pair of pants - she tapped softly on Blake’s door. “Hey,” she said, leaning against the doorframe once Blake told her to come in. “So… this is really stupid, but…”

Blake patted the edge of her bed for Yang to sit. She was already snuggled up under the covers with a soft matching purple pajama set - though Yang could only see the very top buttoned up collar of it, as Blake was practically burrowed under the covers. 

Gods above, she was adorable.

“What’s up?” she asked, taking a sip from her thermos that Yang knew had her usual chamomile sleepytime tea.

“Well, it’s just… Ruby and I usually do this _thing_ around the holidays - and, y’know, it’s actually dumb, not to mention an invasion of personal space, we really haven’t lived together all that long and now I’m really thinking that I-”

“Yang,” Blake cut her off with a gentle laugh. She clicked the top of her thermos securely shut and dropped it to the blankets beside her before reaching over and brushing the hair away from Yang’s face. Her palm rested on Yang’s cheek, dangerously close to her stammering lips. “It’s okay - we can watch those cheesy Christmas movies together if you’d like.”

“You-?”

“I remember you talking about it last year. I thought it was the sweetest thing to keep up with that tradition,” she murmured, her voice turning soft - and a little sad. “In a way, I think maybe for once… the universe is being kind to me. With this storm, and making sure I’m not alone for the holidays. For once.”

“If anyone in this universe deserves kindness more than anything… it’s _you_ , Blake,” Yang said, reaching up and covering her hand, keeping it close.

There was a chasm to cross over those sheets, and something _burned_ between them in the space. This was something _different_ \- and something Yang was sure that Blake could feel now too. “Would you stay with me tonight?” she asked on the barest breath of air.

_Always. For the rest of our lives._ “Of course, Blake. Whatever you need,” Yang said instead, shuffling off the bed so she could pull the covers back and slide into bed with her. She kept a little distance - an aching sliver of infinity - just to keep up _appearances_ or… something. Anything.

But Blake reached out across her waist, pulled Yang closer. Pressed herself against her warmth and let out a long shuddering breath. “ _Thank you_ ,” she whispered against her collarbone.

For the rest of the night, they didn’t talk. Didn’t put a movie on to distract themselves. Just wrapped each other tight in one another’s arms, and listened to each other breathe.

* * *

_She’s tired. Bone-weary. She feels the weight of the battle sink into her body, bruising her bones. Aching. She can’t even lift her weapon to its proper hooks on the wall. All she wants to do is sleep._

_“Here, my love,” a soft lilting voice calls from behind her. A voice she knows well. A voice she loves well._

_She turns, and her wife, all gorgeous silky hair and kind eyes of gold, is standing there in the hallway. She’s wearing a thin robe that’s left hanging open at the front, exposing the valley of her breasts before being tied around her waist._

_“I was so worried,” she says, lifting Yang’s greatsword from her and placing it on the wall mount. She takes Yang into her arms next, and Yang sinks into the embrace, unquestioning._

_Everything about this feels… exactly as it’s meant to be._

_“I always come home,” she murmurs reassuringly in her wife’s ear._ Blake _, her mind whispers to her - but a small part of her rejects that reality._ She’s _not Blake. Not quite._

_The same way that Yang knows that she isn’t quite_ herself _either._

_“I will always come home to you, no matter what,” she repeats, firm. Adamant. “No matter where they send me on the front lines, I’ll always keep fighting. For you, for our home. For our child.”_

_Blake hums, pressing a tender kiss to the side of her temple before settling her head against Yang’s chest. Yang rocks her gently in place as she slips her hand underneath Blake’s robe and settles her palm against her belly. She hasn’t begun to show yet, but Yang can feel the warmth anyway and is overwhelmed with the love of it all._

_“You never have to worry about me,” Yang reassures her again, kissing the crown of her head. “I’m always going to be here with you.”_

_“And I, you,” Blake replies just as softly. She lifts her head to kiss her lips sweetly, then takes her hands within her own. And leads her back to their bed._

* * *

Loud knocking startled them awake the next morning. Or, more accurately, startled Yang awake. Blake was still wrapped in her arms, snuggled into her chest, still appearing to be deeply asleep. Yang stared at her for a long moment, suspended in a momentary trance as she took Blake in through new eyes, a new awareness.

Or… maybe it wasn’t new at all.

Something about that dream felt so… familiar. But its familiarity felt haunting in some way - as the memory of it sifted away like sand falling through her fingers, Yang found herself attempting to cling to the meaning of it. To take even a piece of it and match it to her current self. 

And who she was to Blake Belladonna.

The knocking came again, louder, an insistent hammering this time. _That_ finally managed to rouse Blake into a blinking consciousness. “Who’sat?” she grumbled.

_There is a future here. With her._ The thought settled as she watched Blake rub sleep from her eyes and stretch, dislodging herself from Yang’s arms. “Uh, repairman maybe?” Yang said, feigning a casual air as she slipped out of bed, hoping that Blake was still too groggy to notice that they had been in each other’s arms the entire night. “Anyone else would have had to buzz our apartment to get inside…”

“Blake?! Yang? What gives?”

“...okay, so. _Not_ the repairman,” Yang amended.

“Ilia? How’d she-?” Blake started, sitting up slowly before abruptly freezing as she swung her legs out of bed. Her eyes cut across the room before Yang could leave the room to answer the door, and her gaze was sharp. Discerning.

She… she didn’t know about Yang’s dream, did she? Yang fought back a blush as a particular vision from the memory returned to her with bold clarity. The open-fronted robe, the warmth of her skin...

“Would _one_ of you let me in please? It’s fucking freezing in the hallway,” Ilia’s voice called from the hallway, and Yang startled once again, her whole body spinning and wresting itself from Blake’s captive gaze. 

“Right, right!” Yang cleared her throat, hurrying to the door. “Yeah, sorry - just, still waking up. Come on in.”

“Still waking up?” Ilia lifted an eyebrow at her bedhead, the sleepy squint at the corners of her eyes.

“Uh, yeah. Um,” Yang said, her heart racing as she realized she’d have to come up with an excuse that wasn’t anything similar to _I was cuddling your best friend to sleep._ “Late night movies, you know how it is.”

“How the fuck’d you get in?” Blake asked, still a little groggy as she lifted her arms for a lazy hug.

Ilia burrowed into her embrace easily, their bodies built within years of familiarity. “Some guy held the door open for me - this place really needs to update their security protocols.”

“Well, we haven’t been robbed yet,” Yang said, stretching her arms high above her head as she glanced at the clock. Almost one in the afternoon. “Shit, we really overslept,” she said thoughtlessly.

Yang realized her mistake a split second too late as Blake’s eyes went wide over Ilia’s shoulder. “ _We_ ?” Ilia turned, catching on _way_ too easily. 

“Uh, not _we_ as in together, or y’know just - I didn’t wake Blake up with my loud, uh… morning work out routine this time and-”

“I’m sorry it’s so cold in here!” Blake interrupted Yang’s useless panic, frantically trying to divert Ilia’s attention. “The pipes froze last night-”

“And so you two spent the night all snuggled up then, am I right?” Ilia grinned, nudging Blake’s shoulder as she eyed Yang with a _look_ that Yang wasn’t entirely sure that she liked.

Blake, for some reason, didn’t respond to the good-natured teasing the way Yang would’ve expected - especially not coming from her best friend. Instead, she just sighed and sat down on the couch, Ilia sinking down beside her. She glanced up across the room at Yang, who was standing there, lips parted silently as she watched. “She’s… warm,” Blake said quietly.

Again, there was that deeper implication behind the word - like it was more than just something physical that Blake could feel. Instead, it was something experienced by her _soul._

“That’s good,” Ilia murmured, flicking her gaze over to Yang for a moment as well. “You’ve been needing someone like that in your life for awhile.” To Yang, her tone sharpened with just the slightest edge. “Don’t fuck it up.”

_Something_ floated on the edge of Yang’s tongue - objections, maybe. Probably. _We aren’t together. We’re just roommates. School friends. We hardly even see each other on campus._

Instead, what arose, “I wouldn’t even dream it.”

After dinner that evening, two-thirds of the way through a movie that wasn’t even remotely Christmas-themed - but was something that Blake and Ilia had insisted on as per some _tradition_ \- Yang found her gaze drifting away from the screen for the umpteenth time. It was hard not to when the movie was so boring and Blake was _so_ the opposite of that. Especially now as she dozed against Yang’s shoulder.

“Does Blake believe in soulmates?” Yang asked quietly, glancing across Blake’s slumbering form over to Ilia. She hadn’t meant to ask - hadn’t meant to say anything at all, really. But her dream (their dream?) had been hovering on the edges of her mind the whole day, just barely there but haunting all the same.

Sometimes, she caught a flash of _knowing_ in Blake’s eyes and wondered if she knew.

She hoped she did. 

Ilia, unfortunately, was quick to reply. “No,” she said quietly, and Yang couldn’t help but feel her heart drop. She tried to duck her head, pretend she was suddenly so interested in the movie - but Ilia reached across Blake’s lap and nudged her arm. “But… if she did though,” she continued softly, “I think you would be hers.”

With Ilia staying until Christmas, Yang slept in her own bed and - for the first time in her life - Yang found herself unable to sleep due to feeling _cold._

But she knew it wasn’t because of the lack of heat in the apartment - she could just get up and get another spare blanket from the closet if she _really_ wanted to. But it wouldn’t make a difference. It wouldn’t replace the feeling of Blake wrapped up in her arms.

Eventually, for better or worse, Yang finally found herself falling into a fitful sleep. It started innocuous enough, dozing in and out of comfort, shifting onto her back, her side, stomach, back again each time she found the grey haze of the barest awareness. 

But, when sleep finally claimed her body, she found herself falling into another dream. 

* * *

_She is alone. So terribly, terribly alone._

_There are people around her, surrounding her, trying to touch her. She thinks they know how to comfort her. She thinks they know what to say to her. She thinks they must know what’s best for her, surely._

_They’ve all felt loss before. They know how to help her._

_“Fuck you!” she snarls at the crowd, and the shrink away like a living wall. There. Space to breathe - even just a little._

_“We want to help!”_

_“You don’t have to do this alone!”_

_“Don’t push us away!”_

_She doesn’t want_ any _of their words - why can’t they understand that? She’s hurting. Grieving. And she doesn’t want to speak, doesn’t want to listen._

_She just wants to be held._

_No one offers that one simple thing. No one approaches her. No one sits beside her._

_She is so terribly, terribly alone._

_And they’ll say that she did that to herself. That she had kicked and screamed and lashed out. That she had cried and snarled and raged - who would assume that someone so angry wanted any sort of comfort? Wanted any sort of_ love?

_But the angriest ones often do. They just don’t know how to show it._

_She -_ who is she? _\- just doesn’t know how to show it._

_They leave eventually, at a loss. Everyone always is - always has been. Grief is never easy to comfort. Especially since she’d never healed from the first time._

_Eventually though, someone new approaches her. She looks up as their feet come into view, and then stop. She doesn’t know this person. But… they’re_ warm.

Is this…. Was this…?

_“Mind if I sit with you?”_

_“It’s cold here on the ground,” she says, as if she’s reciting a script. “I’ve been sitting here a long time, and I don’t think I can move.”_

_“That’s okay,” the new voice says to her, and slowly lowers herself onto the ground next to her. She’s bright. Glowing. And familiar. “I don’t have anywhere to be - and you looked like you needed someone beside you.”_

_“I did,” she chokes out. “I… do.” An image of two fresh graves bearing her own last name appear in her mind’s eye. She was kneeling before them, body bowed underneath the weight of her anguish._

_She reaches out and takes the hand of the woman with hair like fire. And she squeezes. A barely breathed word of thanks escapes her throat before further tears overwhelm her once more._

* * *

Yang woke up with a gasp, a thin sheen of sweat covering her body. She felt… sick. Her heart was hammering in an uneven staccato as if she had narrowly escaped from a relentless pursuer. Her hands were clammy and her throat was dry.

She took in a deep, steadying breath as she reached over to the water glass that she normally kept by her bed - only to find it empty. Knowing she wouldn’t able to be able to return to sleep anytime soon, she decided to get up out of bed and head to the kitchen, hoping that the change in location would help clear her mind further.

She padded down the hallway, careful not to wake Blake as she turned the corner to the kitchen and flicked the light on to ground herself.

“Yang?”

Yang squinted for a brief moment against the bright lights, spotting Blake leaning against the counter next to the sink. She looked about as bad as Yang seemed to feel. Since she hadn’t looked in a mirror since startling awake, Yang could only assume that she looked just as shitty. “You’re up too,” she stated in muted surprise. 

“Yeah, I…,” Blake hesitated, tapping a toe against the peeling linoleum. “Just needed a glass of water.”

“Me too,” Yang gestured with her empty cup as she walked over to the sink and turned on the tap. She raised the rim to her lips, but just before she took a sip, she paused. Set down her glass. “...bad dream?” she asked quietly. 

Blake’s near-quiet intake of air was almost answer enough. But Yang gave her space to reply, if she wanted. “I… think I saw myself,” she replied. “On the ground, surrounded by people… they only wanted to help, but…”

“What happened to you, Blake?” Yang asked, compelled. She felt as if she had lived her pain, even a piece of it, in the short span of that dream - but knew not what caused it. 

If the dream was real, anyway. If she wasn’t going crazy.

Blake’s grip on the counter edge tightened - but the vulnerability of the witching hour left little to be unveiled. “I… how-?”

“I was…,” Yang started, trailing off abruptly. _Oh_ , this would sound stupid. So, so stupid. But Blake was standing there in front of her, looking so beautiful in the washed out overhead lights of the kitchen and asking her for the truth and - how could she refuse? “I was _there._ I… I was _you._ I felt… _so_ much despair, loss-”

“Did someone sit down beside you?” Blake asked quickly. There was an urgency in her question, in the flash of her eyes.

“I think... _I_ did,” Yang replied, frowning slightly as she scratched her head in confusion. “I know, that makes _no_ sense, but-”

“It makes sense if it was _me_ ,” Blake murmured. She drew close to Yang, tangling their fingers together on the countertop. “I’d thought I was just comforting my younger self, saying that it would be alright in a few years, that we would grieve but we would heal, pick ourselves up… remember them but still move on…”

The final piece in place, Blake’s tangible sorrow right in front of her, Yang drew Blake in close, threading her fingers through her hair at the back of her head and tucked her head into her chest. “You’re an incredibly brave person, you know that?” 

Blake shuddered in Yang’s arms. “It.. doesn’t really feel like it,” she muttered. “It’s gotten easier, a little.. But… the holidays are... difficult.”

Even though Yang had _been_ there, had somehow viscerally experienced the physical ache in her own heart, she pressed in closer to Blake. “I can’t even imagine,” she whispered.

Blake continued, the floodgates open now, emotion spilling forth. “Mom and I... we’d decorate the house and the tree all while singing along with all the worst holiday covers out there. Drove dad _crazy_. It wouldn’t be a Christmas if Dad didn’t threaten at least once to burn his famous mashed potatoes. But he’d eventually cave and join in. He never could resist Mom’s smile.”

Yang thought of her own Christmases with Ruby and Tai, the way that they would make a mess of the kitchen baking all sorts of cookies and desserts. She thought of losing them, entirely without warning. Pain ghosted through her, and she found herself crying along with Blake.

“I just... how could I go back to any of that? How could I celebrate when they weren’t around?” Blake clung tighter to Yang’s shirt, gripping the material in tight and shaking fists. “I _miss_ them. I miss them _so much._ ”

Yang knew that there weren’t any more words to make the pain any easier in that moment, so instead she held her for a long while as they both cried, rocking them gently back and forth to soothe her tears. Eventually though, Blake sobs hiccuped into shaky inhales and stuttered apologies. Without even thinking, Yang cut her off gently with a kiss to her temple. “You’re okay, love. It’s alright,” she murmured. “Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

Blake nodded, her weight settling against Yang in a collapse of exhaustion. Yang scooped her arm underneath Blake’s knees and lifted her in an easy bridal carry, Blake’s arms still draped loosely around her shoulders. 

As Yang deposited Blake gently into her bed, sliding under the same covers only after grabbing several tissues for Blake, she found herself vowing silently to herself that she would help bring warmth back to those holiday memories.

And she’d hear Blake sing again.

* * *

“So... I was hoping to get you something _kinda_ different this year,” Yang said, leaning on the counter as Blake made mugs of hot chocolate for all three of them.

“Oh? And what exactly is _something different,_ Yang?”

Yang fought a blush as Blake passed her the mug before heading into the living room to put Ilia’s mug down on the coffee table. Ilia, engrossed in an online Mario Kart match, just nodded in thanks, her tongue poking out in fierce concentration.

“ _Well_ ,” she started, a little slowly - because now, as she thought about it more, the more she worried that Blake actually wouldn’t take to the idea. “Remember how I said that Ruby and my dad were stuck inside because everything had frozen shut?”

Blake nodded quietly as she sipped at her hot chocolate, watching Ilia fire off a blue shell from her place next to her on the couch.

“So, as it turns out - well, they managed to get the doors open! And, uh… well, I asked them both if they still wanted to come over on Christmas,” Yang continued, feeling more nervous about it all by the second. “I thought maybe… well, Dad could bring the turkey and the potatoes and Ruby could bring their Christmas decorations and….”

Understanding dawned over Blake’s face and, for a moment, she seemed overwhelmed. “Yang, I…”

“I know it’s short notice, ‘cause Christmas is tomorrow and all, I just thought it’d be nice-”

“It’s okay, Yang,” Blake murmured softly, glancing over at Ilia for a moment who had let herself fall to last place just so she could be ready to support Blake if she needed it. “It’s okay,” Blake repeated, smiling softly over at Ilia and squeezing her knee. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me and it’s really sweet. I’d love to have your family over tomorrow.”

“Well then, no offence,” Ilia declared, setting down her controller in resignation. “But this place needs a _major_ cleaning before you can have any sort of company over.”

“But… you’re company,” Yang put in, confused.

“She means _civil_ company,” Blake corrected, shouldering playfully into Ilia’s side. “Ilia’s at least used to how bad things can get when I get like this. Somehow, I highly doubt that your dad and sister would be so accepting.”

“You’d be surprised with Ruby, really,” Yang rolled her eyes, but stood regardless.

“And tell your old man to bring a space heater if he has one,” Ilia said as she rummaged through the storage closet to find a broom or a vacuum or something. “ _You two_ might be able to cuddle up and share body heat and all that shit, but not everyone has the same privilege!”

“Well, actually-”

“And _no,_ ” Ilia said, brandishing a broom handle in Yang’s direction. “I will absolutely _not_ be snuggling under a blanket next to your old man and kid sister!”

“Honestly, I had another idea….”

Christmas day came like a whirlwind to their apartment. Actually, after the hasty stampede of frantic cleaning, the arrival of Ruby and Tai felt more like the eye of the storm. Ilia went to the main entrance to let them into the apartment, when-

“Who in the _holy gay fuck_ -?!”

Blake quirked an eyebrow at Yang quizzically at Ilia’s sudden loud shout from the hallway - an expression which Yang hardly found time for herself to appreciate it before doubling over in laughter. “Oh, fuck, I-” she barely managed before bursting out into another loud bray of mirth. “I totally forgot to warn her.”

“Did you play matchmaker for my best friend on Christmas?” Blake asked, shaking her head as the voices in the hallway drew closer. Among them, Yang could definitely hear Pyrrha introducing herself to Ilia - and Ruby _barely_ disguising a snicker.

Yang lifted her hands in a faux-apologetic shrug as she went to their door to greet them. “She just seemed so lonely when she talked about us cuddling yesterday!”

Before Blake could respond to _that_ , the door burst open - and Ruby came flying into the front entry. “Yang!” she beamed, already launching herself into Yang’s arms, knowing she would catch her. 

“Hey Rubes,” Yang grinned back, feeling something calm settle within her. Logically, she _knew_ everything would’ve been fine - plus she still had Tai in case something _really_ went wrong - but there was still an old instinct that would ever be silenced.

Ruby simultaneously allayed and exacerbated that small worry by pitching herself backward, anchored to Yang’s waist by her legs and steadied by Yang’s arms around her back. “Yang, it was awful, just _fucking awful_ -”

“Language, missy,” Tai stepped in, greeting Yang with a one-armed, side-hug version of a bear hug. “How are you holding up there, spitfire?”

“Good,” she said, extracting an arm from around Ruby to punch his shoulder lovingly. “Really good. I’m really glad I moved out, honestly.”

Ruby finally dropped down from around Yang’s waist and leaned further into the apartment to look around. Spotting Blake, she let out another snicker that she didn’t even _try_ to hide this time. “Yeah, I bet you are.”

Yang smacked her, her mouth opening in a retort that probably just would’ve incriminated her and her feelings for Blake further in front of her sister, but fortunately was saved from herself when Ilia tripped into the doorway, laughing nervously. 

“Oh dear, are you alright there love?” Pyrrha’s concerned voice was shortly followed by her concerned face. 

Ilia lurched in the air, halted from an unfortunate gay collapse by Pyrrha’s quick hands on her shoulders. “Oh, I’m fine, really just - oh, ha, wow. Look at that, you caught me falling for you, wow…”

“Good god…,” Yang muttered under her breath as she shook her head and headed back over to her spot on the couch beside Blake. “When I thought I’d just be nice and invite Pyrrha so Ilia could have someone else to talk to, well. I didn’t expect… that.”

Blake shook her head and laughed as she watched the blush overtake Ilia’s entire face as she stared up at Pyrrha, utterly charmed. “I probably should’ve explained to you, Ilia’s the gayest mess as they come,” she said. “I showed her your picture once while saying that you’d be my new roommate, and - well. She short-circuited for just slightly more than a few minutes.”

“You think she’ll survive the night?” Yang asked in mild concern. If there was something she could sympathisize with, it was _definitely_ gay panic. 

“She’ll be fine,” Blake waved her hand easily. “Honestly, she actually does have _some_ game. She’s not entirely useless - unlike _someone_ I know.”

“Well, that’s good at - _hey_. Wait a second-!”

“Blake,” Tai called from the kitchen, settling into the adoptive father role easily. “Would you come help an old man wrangle this beast of a bird please?” 

Blake glanced over at Yang, surprised. Yang just shrugged, trying to play innocent. Barely lasted a second with Blake’s eyes on her like that. “I hope it’s okay that I mentioned a little that you’ve missed helping your dad with the turkey during holidays - but I didn’t go into details!”

Blake’s eyes watered a little, but a smile broke through at the end of it. “Thank you,” she murmured, pressing her lips to Yang’s cheek as she rose from the couch to help Tai.

“I… yeah, uh…. You’re thanked, right…,” Yang stuttered, staring after her blankly.

“Who’s the gay mess now?” Ilia snarked in her ear as she made her way past her and into the hall.

“And who’s escaping into the bathroom to hide from her gay feelings?!” Yang shouted back, pouting. Ilia just flipped her off and slammed the bathroom door, as if proving a point.

“He _ey_ Yang?” Ruby said, sticking her face right up in Yang’s space. “I won't call you the most useless lesbian in this apartment if you lift me up to put the star on the tree. Please?”

“That implies that you’re _still_ going to call me a useless lesbian anyway,” Yang grumbled as she stood up.

“Just not the _most_ useless one!” Ruby nodded, satisfied that Yang caught her loophole. “Don’t you want to be less useless than Ilia?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Yang rolled her eyes, sticking out her palm. “Just give me the damn star already.”

Ruby produced the tree topper ornament and slapped it into her palm triumphantly. Despite her slightly not-entirely put-on grumpy attitude, Yang had to smile as she lifted Ruby by her waist and hoisted her up to the top of the tree. It was a time-honoured tradition in their family, ever since Yang had been big enough to lift her baby sister.

And it was even more special when she noticed Blake watching on, a genuine smile lighting up her entire face.

At the end of the night, the apartment had settled into a muted kind of quiet. Everyone was stuffed and lethargic from the Christmas dinner and conversations had lapsed into the occasional unimportant comment and noncommittal hums of reply. The only remaining light came from the string of lights on the tree, and it casted a soft multicoloured glow over the dozing occupants of the living room.

The only one who hadn’t quite succumbed to the turkey tired was Blake. She nuzzled into Yang’s side, nudging her cheek with the tip of her nose so that her eyelids fluttered open. 

“Mm?” Yang asked, dopey in her exhaustion.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” she said, watching Yang’s eyes find hers in the near-darkness, finding that she could nearly count her individual lashes. A thrill shivered through her. “For doing all this… making this holiday so special for me, it’s… more than I deserve.”

“That’s not true, Blake,” Yang replied gently, cupping her face gently and pressing their foreheads together. This posture was familiar - but in the open space of the living room, instead of the quiet confines of their bed, it was somehow so much more intimate. “You deserve so much more. The entire world. Everything. _Anything_.”

Blake’s doubts almost submitted to the strength in those words. Almost. “I wish there was some way I could repay you,” she said. “Something I could give you, a gift or something-”

“Blake, love,” Yang reassured her, rubbing her thumb back and forth over Blake’s cheek. “You’ve already given me the best present you could have ever given me.” Blake blinked at her in confusion, waiting for Yang to continue. “Watching you tonight, seeing you smiling again? Hearing your laughter, your singing along to the music? That alone… that’s more than enough of a gift to me.”

Blake hummed, and it lightened the air around them both. She close her eyes for a long moment, soaking in Yang’s touch, her warmth. Then, again - but so much lighter than before, “There must be _some_ way I could make it up to you…”

Yang caught the teasing lilt in Blake’s tone with ease, and leaned into it eagerly. “Well,” she started slowly, coy. “I could probably think of _one_ way…”

Blake leaned in before Yang could even finish her sentence, pressing their lips together in an eager kiss. Everything else faded around them as their souls found unity - and together, started singing their own song.


End file.
